A Most Unusual Vacation
by LauraHuntORI
Summary: An origin story for Jonathan Devereaux.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This story takes place well before the events depicted in the film, on a much smaller sister ship, on which Gil Godwin is NOT the C.D. These things couldn't happen on his watch.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, but admire much. I hope I do not offend.

* * *

Had Jonathan Devereaux been asked if he wanted to go on a Caribbean cruise, he would have said no. Fortunately, his daughter Amy did not ask him what he wanted: she told him they were taking the cruise and the date it departed. Jonathan smiled agreeably and began to pack. He had never before taken a cruise, he thought cruises were a waste of money, but he had been well trained by Amy's mother to obey direct orders without argument. After thoughtful consideration of several cruise brochures, consultation with the travel agent, and finally careful perusal of a couple of library books on cruising, Jonathan decided he did not possess the sort of clothing required, and to Amy's amazement actually went shopping for clothes and located a tailor to alter them to his diminutive height. The cruise was only four nights, but it had been a long time since Jonathan had had any need for good clothes.

Amy was pleased at the amount of attention he paid to these preparations; the whole family had lately been commenting that their father had been moving through his days like an automaton, pleasant and polite, but not taking much interest in anything. His apparent interest in the cruise was perceived to be a good sign.

By the time Amy, her father, and her husband Robert had arrived aboard ship, Amy wondered if she had been too hopeful. Dad easy to travel with, certainly he never complained, but it was like traveling with a ghost. Amy intercepted sympathetic glances from the flight attendants , as if they thought her father were on his last legs, going bravely and sweetly to his doom. Amy remembered a time, and not all that long ago, when Dad had flirted with every woman he met. He almost did so now, but the smiles were so fleeting, so slight, before he fell back into abstraction, that she hardly knew what to do. He had often said in the past that Mom was his anchor, and without her he seemed adrift.

This dreamlike state continued until the threesome entered the ballroom. A few couples were dancing, swing music played, and Amy saw that her father wanted to dance. He said nothing, but was giving the dancers more attention than he had paid to anything in a year, and one black dress shoe was tapping out the song's beat. When the next song began, Amy said, "Let's dance, Dad." He turned to look at her and smiled, rose to offer her his hand for the dance, and she saw his eyes had come to life.

Jonathan was a skilled dancer and the pleasure he took in the activity was palpable. They danced twice more, then sat back down. Amy was not much of a dancer, their table mates from dinner were not in the ballroom, and as yet they knew no one else on the ship. Amy and Robert discussed the activities planned for the following day, while Jonathan watched the dancing attentively, then went to get his daughter and son-in-law drinks. Back at the table, he resumed watching the dancing, as intently as though it were a play upon a stage. She was pretty sure he wanted to dance again, but knew herself incapable of keeping up with him. She was already tired, and she did not think he expected her to dance again. Amy wondered what it was that captured his attention on the dance floor.

What had captured Jonathan's attention was the realization that the couples on the dance floor were constantly changing. A small number of men were circulating through the ballroom, dancing with a great variety of partners. A tall silver-haired man escorted his partner to the second table away from Jonathan, then moved to the table between that and Jonathan's where two unescorted ladies were seated. Jonathan's ears practically flapped to catch the man's words: "Hi, my name is Mac. May I have the pleasure of this dance?" The lady apparently agreed, as Mac then escorted her to the floor.

_'As easy as that?" _Jonathan thought, eyes wide. He realized he was staring at the same time he realized that the lady who had been left behind was looking back at him, returning in equal measure his own delighted smile. She nodded suggestively towards the dance floor.

"Dad-" Jonathan looked at his daughter. "Go and dance with her," Amy said.

Jonathan rose and went to the woman. "Hi. My name is Jonathan," he said. "May I have the very great pleasure of this dance?"

* * *

Jonathan was in heaven. Nearly every lady he approached wanted to dance. Those who didn't directed him to others who did. Some of the women danced well, some poorly, but all were friendly and pleased to be asked. Yet none clung to him, nor made any advances, each seeming to expect to return to her table and relinquish his company at the end of her dance, in order to allow another lady her turn. Jonathan could not restrain his smiles; he knew he must be grinning like an idiot. It was quite probably the greatest night of his life. Amy and Robert sat talking and watching Jonathan dance for over an hour. He did not return to sit down until the band took a break.

"Are you having a good time, Dad?"

"Wonderful. I had no idea taking a cruise would be so much fun."

"You look fine out there."

"I think I'm a little rusty," he demurred.

"No so you'd notice," she replied.

The band was returning, and Amy saw her father scan the room for his next partner. It was well past ten, and she was exhausted. "We're going to bed, Dad, but you enjoy yourself dancing. When you collapse have someone carry you to our stateroom." Jonathan nodded his agreement, collected the next lady, and had returned to the dance floor before Amy and Robert had left the room.

The night was magical. Jonathan had always enjoyed dancing, but he had never in his life experienced anything like this night, dance after dance, after joyous, wonderful dance. He had not lied to his daughter, he _was_ rusty; he stepped on a few toes, and was stepped on in return, but none of the women got angry. Those who didn't smile, actually laughed. Jonathan thought their universal good mood might be rubbing off on him because even the rather strange things that happened failed to concern or disturb him overmuch. For instance, a buxom blonde woman scowled at him from across the floor through several dances, then finally motioned him over.

He approached her obediently. "My name's Jonathan. Would you like to dance with me?"

The scowling lady was surprised into a smile. "Yes, I would. My name's Ellen." They joined the dance.

Ellen danced reasonably well, but soon she was scowling again, this time at his sport coat. She looked at it in a way that made him wonder if he'd spilled something on it. He looked at his chest and saw that it was clean, so he ventured to ask, "Is something wrong, Ellen?"

"Is this your first time, Jonathan?"

He wondered what she meant, then thought he knew. "My first cruise? Yes, it is. It's wonderful. I had no idea it would be like this."

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Ellen practically sniffed. "Well, you should, of course, but don't forget you have certain duties and obligations as well." He gaped at her, and opened his mouth to say something, but Ellen stopped him. "I'm sure you'll catch on."

"Of course," he responded, looking confused.

"Anyone can help you."

"I'm sure," Jonathan agreed. The dance was over, so he returned Ellen to her seat. '_Help him with what?'_

At the band's next break Jonathan went to the men's room. The silver haired man Mac was there and said to him, "Are you Jonathan?"

Jonathan admitted that he was.

"You're new."

Jonathan wondered what "new" meant between passengers on the first night of a cruise, but confirmed, "This is my first cruise, yes."

Mac nodded, sucked in his breath, then said, carefully, "The blue blazer and tan trousers are more... usual... for the ballroom." He looked at Jonathan significantly, but Jonathan got the impression Mac was trying not to give offence.

Jonathan's brow wrinkled. "More usual?"

"Yes, that is what we usually wear in the ballroom, except on formal nights." Mac was looking Jonathan straight in the eyes. He clearly expected some response to this rather unorthodox conversational gambit.

Jonathan said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Mac nodded encouragingly, but continued very firmly, "So tomorrow night we'll see you in a blue blazer and tan trousers, correct?"

_'What in the blue blazers is going on?" _Jonathan almost laughed. '_What kind of cruise is this?'_ Mac was waiting for his reply. Jonathan thought about the men he had seen in the ballroom. They had worn a variety of suits and sport coats, but now that Mac pointed it out, the men who had gone from partner to partner, as he himself had been doing for the past two hours and more, had, in fact, been wearing blue blazers. Some kind of dress code? Without intending to, Jonathan had started to shake his head. _'This whole thing is so weird.' _

Mac mistook this movement for a negative gesture, a denial. The taller man sighed, and shook his own head. "Are you having a good time here, Jonathan?"

Jonathan nodded.

"That's good. We care about you, you're family, and we want you to have a good time." Mac's voice had grown very soft, and Jonathan had to strain to hear him over the babble of other men coming and going, washing their hands, and flushing toilets. "We understand that you're new here, but it's important for you to do as you're told, to follow the rules," Jonathan was starting to feel as though a band were tightening around his heart. He opened his mouth, but shut it again when Mac continued, "even if you don't understand them, if you want to get along here. Am I getting through to you, Jonathan?"

_'No. Yes.' _Certainly, the repetition of his name was getting to him. Before he had retired, Jonathan had experienced his share of bosses, and had been bawled out as many times as anyone, so it was clear to him that he _was_ in fact being bawled out, but he had never before been bawled out so thoroughly by someone whose voice was not raised. Yet Mac seemed more sorry than angry.

It was insane. This man had no authority over him, yet he felt ashamed of himself anyway, was actually staring at the floor. And he had never heard of this strange dress code until this moment!

Mac was touching his arm. He looked up at the taller man. The stern look was gone, softened into a gentle smile by his show of submission. "Don't worry. It's all right. You're new, and everyone is entitled to one mistake. Go back and enjoy the dance. And tomorrow when you come into the ballroom, you'll be wearing your tan trousers and blue blazer. Right?"

"Right," Jonathan nodded.

"Good man. Now let's hurry up and get back; the ladies await."

Jonathan gave a chuff of laughing agreement. They hurried to get back to the dance.

* * *

It was nearly two a.m. when Jonathan returned to the stateroom, tired but elated.

"Dad?" Amy's voice said out of the darkness.

"Yes, it's me. Go back to sleep."

"Did you have a good time dancing?"

"Yes, very good."

"I'm glad. I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, honey. Good night."

"Good night."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **As you know, I own nothing.

* * *

Jonathan slept until late afternoon, forbearing even to go ashore, so Amy and Robert went on their own and left him to sleep through the morning. In the early afternoon he wandered up to the Lido buffet. The couple returned in early evening to find Jonathan dressing. He laughed at himself, but dressed in his blue blazer and tan trousers. He said he was going to the ballroom.

Amy and Robert told him they would be going to one of the shows, but told Jonathan to enjoy himself. After he left, Amy said, "Are we going to see anything of my father on this cruise?"

Robert pointed out that the purpose of the vacation had been to perk her father up: it seemed to be working.

"True," she agreed.

"Then be contented.

* * *

Jonathan danced with a lot of nice ladies: all sizes, all skill levels. One woman tried to demur on the grounds that she did not know how to do the dance being played. When Jonathan admitted that he did not know how to do it either, she changed her mind, and the two of them faked it, to the joy of each.

The buxom blonde, Ellen, actually smiled at him from across the ballroom, though she shook her head at his gestured inquiry as to whether she wished to dance with him again. She did not; she motioned for him to dance with others.

The man Mac caught his eyes and likewise smiled his approval of Jonathan's sartorial choices, so all was apparently right with the world.

Jonathan danced every dance, and began to feel a little wistful, to wish this idyll could continue, since when he danced his worries seemed to melt away. He shook off the longing in favor of enjoying himself while it lasted. By two a.m. the ladies had all cleared out and the band was wrapping up. Mac and one or two others had actually been without partners for the final dance. Jonathan thought perhaps Mac would come and speak to him when the dancing ended, but after Jonathan's partner had gone, the pianist, who had seen him tap a little while faking his way through those dances he didn't know called, "Hey, Jonathan, how about a little of the 'old soft shoe' before you go? Jonathan obliged happily, tapping out the traditional steps. His shoes were untapped, he could barely hear the click of his dress shoes on the ballroom floor, so it was "soft shoe" indeed. Mac had gone before the pianist ended and Jonathan's feet at last were still.

* * *

The next day Jonathan said he was at his family's disposal. They went on a shore excursion. Upon their return aboard ship, Amy suggested a night at the casino. She knew he had often gone with her mother. Jonathan agreed, so the three went up to the casino. To Amy's surprise, however, Jonathan did not get any chips for himself. He apparently intended only to watch Amy and Robert play.

"But Dad, you and Mom-"

"I never gambled with your mother," her father said. "She liked it. I just watched her." Amy had never heard this before. She had always assumed both her parents liked to gamble. She almost suggested they do something else instead, but Robert had already settled himself at a blackjack table, so Amy found a game herself. Jonathan watched her for a while, then offered to get her a drink.

Jonathan went up to the bar and gave his order. When the bartender handed him the drinks, he started back to his daughter's table. Halfway there, a voice arrested him- "Jonathan!" It was the buxom blonde from the ballroom, her old scowl back in place. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He was clearly through the looking glass. He looked at the furious Ellen, then at the tumblers in his hands. "Getting cream sodas?" To his consternation, it came out as a question.

His interlocutor turned purple. "Don't you dare get smart with me!" She came quite close to him and lowered her voice. No one in the casino cared what the two of them said to each other. Ellen said, "I am going up to the ballroom in exactly twenty minutes. When I get there I expect to see you in a blue blazer and tan trousers dancing. Do I make myself clear?

It was clear that he was on a ship full of lunatics, totally fixated on blue blazers and tan trousers. Jonathan thought if he said this, or shouted with laughter, that Ellen would have a stroke. He thought he might have one himself from trying to hold it in.

Ellen was waiting. "I said, 'Is that clear?'"

There could only be one answer: "Yes, ma'am."

"Then go."

He hurried back to his daughter's table. "I've been ordered to the ballroom," he announced.

"Ordered?"

"Definitely ordered."

"By whom?"

"I think her name is Ellen." He motioned with his head towards where the blonde still stood watching. Surprisingly, the woman managed to simultaneously smile at Amy while continuing to glare at her father.

"You want to go," Amy stated.

"I shudder to think what will happen if I don't. She says I have twenty minutes to change and be in the ballroom dancing. "

"With her?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. With anyone. She said I was to be dancing when she got there."

Amy had a lot of questions, but her father did not seem to have any answers. From his expression, he seemed to think it was hilarious, and he obviously wanted to return to the ballroom as directed.

"Go, Dad." He kissed her and fled. Amy turned to question the blonde, but she had gone, too. Amy shook her head and returned to her game.

* * *

When Jonathan arrived in the ballroom, blessedly before Ellen, but on the last second of his allotted twenty minutes, Mac was between partners and near the door where he entered.

"Are you crazy?" Mac hissed.

"I think I might be," Jonathan admitted frankly.

"You are, I promise you," Mac agreed. Both men chose partners.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

On the last day of the cruise, Jonathan swore off dancing in favor of spending the time with his daughter and her husband. The three again went ashore during the day, and in the evening were at a second sitting for the formal dinner. Amy thought her father a little subdued this final night, but he still seemed happy, if bemused. He had offered no further explanation for his abrupt departure from the casino the previous night. After dinner, Amy and Robert proposed a stroll around the ship. Jonathan said he had a headache and left to return to their stateroom for aspirin and perhaps to lie down. Amy wondered if they would find him in the ballroom if they went up there.

* * *

Ellen, meanwhile, was in the ballroom observing Jonathan's absence. She motioned Mac over between dances. "Where is he?"

Mac would have liked to protect his new friend, but could not. "He hasn't been in here tonight."

"This is enough!" Ellen exclaimed. "For Pete's sake, this is only a four night cruise! Tell the C.D. to find him and meet me in my office. "

"Yes, ma'am," Mac replied dutifully, then went to find the cruise director. He felt like a rat, but it was Jonathan's own fault, after all.

The cruise director was in his office. "Mrs. Carruthers says to find Jonathan and bring him to her office." Mac made a slashing motion across his throat to indicate the purpose of the meeting.

The C.D. looked surprised. "Who's Jonathan?"

* * *

To Ellen's great satisfaction, she herself almost stumbled over the miscreant as she passed the main dining room. "There you are!" she trumpeted. Ellen thought he looked adorable in his tux-but never mind that, she was through with him, the insubordinate little- "Come with me."

He didn't move. "Where are we going?"

"To my office."

"Your office?"

"Yes, to my office. Did you think you'd get away with this?"

"Get away with what?" Jonathan asked.

"As if you didn't know. MARCH!"

"Why should I?"

"We have a meeting with the C.D."

"What's the C.D.?"

"The cruise director."

Jonathan had actually had quite a long conversation with the cruise director that very afternoon. At least, his daughter had, while he listened politely. Maybe this C.D., who, unlike this woman, had given the impression he was sane, could explain this mad business of ordering the passengers around and forcing them to wear blue blazers. Accordingly, Jonathan surrendered and allowed himself to be taken in tow.

Ellen unlocked her office, pointed to a chair, and ordered him to sit. She picked up the telephone, dialed, then said, "I found him. Get down here," and hung up. She didn't speak again, just stared at him while they waited. Jonathan too said nothing, knowing he would get no sensible answers until the cruise director arrived.

And maybe not then, either. The cruise director bustled in, Mac following close behind him. "Mrs. Carruthers, what is this all about? We don't have a-" the C.D. stopped short when he saw who his boss had in her office. "Mr. Devereaux."

Jonathan sighed. "Could you tell me what's going on?"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Devereaux, this has all been a big mistake. Let me-"

"Richard, what are you saying? This man has-"

"This man is a _passenger_, Mrs. Carruthers."

"**_What?!_**"

Mac looked like he had swallowed the anchor. Ellen looked like she was about to vomit it up. The cruise director continued, "Mr. Devereaux and his party have a stateroom on the Lido deck."

"That's absurd," Ellen said. "He can't be a passenger."

"I assure you, he most definitely can, and he is. I promise you, I know who the passengers are!"

Ellen sat back in her chair, deflated.

The cruise director began to apologize again, since his boss was clearly incapable of it. Jonathan stopped him. He rubbed his head, which was splitting. "This is the most peculiar vacation. Of course I'm a passenger, what else could I be? You must have known I wasn't a crew member."

It was Mac who replied. "We didn't think you were a crew member. We thought you were a Dance Host."

"A what?"

"A Dance Host."

"What's a Dance Host?"

"Like a passenger, but you don't have to pay for the cruise. You just... dance."

"But don't you know who these Dance Hosts are?"

"Yes," Ellen admitted, "but we had been short one Host, so when I saw you, I assumed Richard had found another at the last minute."

"But what made you think I was a Dance Host?"

Ellen shrugged and looked at him helplessly. "You acted like one."

"What?!"

Mac broke in. "She's right. I didn't think about it until Mrs. Carruthers asked me to speak to you, but once she did, I never doubted it, because-"

"Because she's your boss," the C.D. finished for him. Then, "Wait a minute, she asked you to speak to him? About what? Mrs. Carruthers, if you have a problem with a Dance Host, tell me, and I'll deal with it. In this case, I could have told you this man was a passenger-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Richard. Mac is your liaison, and there was no need to bother you about Jonathan. He was quite a good little Dance Host, actually. I only told Mac to speak to him because he was out of uniform the first night."

The C.D. threw up his hands.

But a light had begun to break for Jonathan. "The blue blazer and tan trousers... Then the next night I showed up in them. I am such and idiot... But I _wasn't _wearing them the first night, so why would you assume I was a Dance Host to begin with?"

"Because," Mac explained. "You _danced._"

"Other men were dancing."

"You danced _every dance._ And never twice with this same woman. You worked the room. Passengers never do that. Dance Hosts have to."

Jonathan sighed. "Well, at least it makes sense now."

"I'm very sorry this happened, Mr. Devereaux."

Jonathan shrugged. "Don't be. I'm not. I enjoyed it while it lasted." He smiled at the three of them. Two of them didn't know what to say.

Mac did. "It's the last night, Mr. Devereaux. Will we see you in the ballroom?"

* * *

Jonathan went to his stateroom, but could not rest. As Mac had said, it was the last night. He went up to the ballroom in his tuxedo as he was. Some of the women recognized him from previous nights and beckoned him over to dance.

When the band took a break, Mac approached him. "Mr. Devereaux. Good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, Mac." Jonathan returned the greeting, as though the two had been parted for years, instead of less than an hour.

"Mr. Devereaux, have you ever thought of becoming a Dance Host?"

"No. As you well know, I never heard of Dance Hosts until an hour ago!"

"But have you been thinking of it since then?"

"I've been dancing since then."

"I see that. So you have been thinking of it, then?"

"I have."

"Good man."

"The band is coming back."

"We'd better get back to work then."


End file.
